Kennedy Square eBook

All this the son might have known could he have sat
by his father in the carryall on this way to Moorlands.

CHAPTER XXIX

The sudden halting of two vehicles close to the horse-block
of the Temple Mansion—­one an aristocratic
carryall driven by a man in livery, and the other
a dilapidated city hack in charge of a negro in patched
overcoat and whitey-brown hat, the discharge of their
inmates, one of whom was Colonel Talbot Rutter of
Moorlands carrying two pillows, and another a strange
young man loaded down with blankets—­the
slow disembarking of a gentleman in so wretched a
state of health that he was practically carried up
the front steps by his body-servant, and the subsequent
arrival of Dr. Teackle on the double quick—­was
a sight so unusual in and around peaceful Kennedy
Square that it is not surprising that all sorts of
reports—­most of them alarming—­reached
the club long before St. George had been comfortably
tucked away in bed.

Various versions were afloat: “St. George
was back from Wesley with a touch of chills and fever—­”
“St. George was back from Wesley with a load
of buckshot in his right arm—­” “St.
George had broken his collar-bone riding to hounds—­”
etc.

Richard Horn was the first to spring to his feet—­it
was the afternoon hour and the club was full—­and
cross the Square on the run, followed by Clayton,
Bowman, and two or three others. These, with one
accord, banged away on the knocker, only to be met
by Dr. Teackle, who explained that there was nothing
seriously the matter with Mr. Temple, except an attack
of foolhardiness in coming up the bay when he should
have stayed in bed—­but even that should
cause his friends no uneasiness, as he was still as
tough as a lightwood knot, and bubbling over with good
humor; all he needed was rest, and that he must have—­so
please everybody come to-morrow.

By the next morning the widening of ripples caused
by the dropping of a high-grade invalid into the still
pool of Kennedy Square, spread with such force and
persistency that one wavelet overflowed Kate’s
dressing-room. Indeed, it came in with Mammy Henny
and her coffee.

“Marse George home, honey—­Ben done
see Todd. Got a mis’ry in his back dat
bad it tuk two gemmens to tote him up de steps.”

“Uncle George home, and ill!”

That was enough for Kate. She didn’t want
any coffee—­she didn’t want any toast
or muffins, or hominy—­she wanted her shoes
and stockings and—­Yes everything, and quick!—­and
would Mammy Henny call Ben and send him right away
to Mr. Temple’s and find out how her dear Uncle
George had passed the night, and give him her dearest
love and tell him she would come right over to see
him the moment she could get into her clothes; and
could she send anything for him to eat; and did the
doctor think it was dangerous—? Yes—­and
Ben must keep on to Dr. Teackle’s and find out
if it was dangerous—­and say to him that